


Call It Quits

by supernaturallylost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Anal Sex, Asexual Castiel, Bottom Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Rimming, Romantic Fluff, Top Crowley, basically a romcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he is left at the altar, Dean Winchester takes refuge from an intense thunderstorm within an unlocked car near the church. After accidentally falling asleep, Dean finds himself awakened by the car's (surprised) owner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End of Forever

_Now, I believe these two men have prepared their own vows. Dean?_

“I promise,” Dean whispered into his hands, “to love you forever. If ever the day comes that I need reminding, I promise to look you in the eyes and kiss you until I remember. I vow to be true to you, and I vow to never cause you pain. You can rely on me. I promise that this will always be true: I will love you, I will honor you, and I will learn with you forever.”

_Castiel?_

Dean looked down at the two rings in his hand. He turned them in his hands as silent tears fell onto his tuxedo. Outside of the car, the thunder rolled and a particularly strong bout of rain crashed into the windshield.

_Castiel, would you like to read your vows?_

Alone in the car, sitting in the passenger seat, Dean wept.

_Castiel? Where are you going?_

Dean slowly put both rings on his left ring finger. He closed his eyes and felt the pounding of his heart in his ears. He held his left hand to his heart and covered it with his right hand. The thunder growled once more, and the rain continued to fall steadily onto the glass.

“Cas,” he whispered brokenly. The tears fell in earnest now, wetting his tuxedo and streaming unpleasantly down his cheeks. His nose ran, his neck was red, and his lips trembled. “Cas.”

Just like that, forever ended.

 

“Agh!” someone screamed.

Dean jolted awake. The tears were dried to his face, his mouth was dry from being open while he slept, and his fingers were stiff from being clenched around his rings. After shaking his head several times and blinking the burn from his eyes, Dean looked at the person responsible for his wake-up call.

Though he had screamed in shock, the person’s eyes gazed evenly at Dean. Brown, with a subtle green, the eyes scanned Dean’s face as Dean looked back. Brown hair, thin and flat, emphasized his full face. The scruff around his mouth also served to bring attention to his flat, soft lips. He was dressed in a black suit with a black button up shirt.

“What are you doing in my car?” the man asked loudly.

Dean couldn’t respond. From behind the stranger’s head, the orange-red glow of the setting sun made an ironically devilish halo.

“Hello?” the stranger asked again. He waved in front of Dean’s eyes. Eventually he leaned back in the driver’s seat and loosened his shoulders. “I left my car unlocked again didn’t I?”

Finding his voice, Dean answered, “I’m sorry. It was storming outside, and I didn’t know where to go.”

“Well, most people would lean toward going into a building, but cars work just as well, don’t they?”

The man sighed, more annoyed than actually angry. He pursed his lips and put his key into the ignition. For a moment, Dean’s eyes blew wider with fear. When he realized that the man only intended to turn the car’s heating system on, instead of kidnapping him, Dean relaxed once more.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said again. His voice was quiet. His fingers twirled the rings on his finger, a motion that inevitably drew the attention of the vehicle’s owner.

“Married twice in one day?” he smirked. When Dean didn’t respond, his brows furrowed. “Not married at all, are you?”

Dean tried to smile. For some reason, he’d learned that smiling in the face of tormenting pain was an acceptable action. The stranger, however, did not agree.

“Don’t smile,” he said suddenly. “I can tell you’re upset. Don’t be a hypocrite. There’s little I hate more than hypocrites.”

“Every hypocrite says that,” Dean answered sullenly.

The stranger smiled. Then, he sighed heavily. Rain fell sloppily on the windshield, but the thunder was quiet and moving on.

“It’s been raining for four hours,” he stated. “Have you been here that whole time?”

Dean nodded guiltily. Before he could speak, however, the man shifted gears.

“Let’s go somewhere else, then,” he said. There was a sarcastic casualness in his voice that Dean couldn’t help but smile at. “Coffee? Or would you rather I take you home?”

Dean shook his head. His apartment was no longer a safe place. Cas might be there by now, packing his bags and ready to move on. Dean clenched his jaw and forced the thought from his mind. He looked at the raindrops still falling.

“Coffee,” he said thickly. Then, “Actually, I’m really craving a hamburger.”

The stranger smiled and nodded before he put a foot on the gas pedal. They travelled in silence.

 

“Crowley!” the barkeep grinned. “Shall I put in the order for your usual?”

The man in front of Dean smiled, nodded, and gestured to a secluded back table of the pub. Dean hesitated, but found himself sitting opposite the intriguing stranger with a burger in front of him within minutes.

While Dean took a big bite, his new acquaintance sipped from a short glass of cognac.

“What’s your name?” he asked gently when Dean was between bites.

“Dean,” he answered, mouth still full of food. “Winchester.”

“Hmm,” the man nodded. “I’m Crowley. This is an interesting way to meet, isn’t it?”

Dean slowed his chewing and shook the crumbs from his hands. The quarter of a burger still on his plate fell apart when Dean looked away to wipe his face with a napkin.

Dean’s eyes wandered from Crowley’s eyes to his secretive smirk. He leaned back and tried to articulate the questions that ran through his head.

“Want some help?” Crowley smiled. Dean tilted his head. “I know what you want to ask, so I’ll save you the trouble. The answer is this: when you find a man crying in your car who has obviously just been left at the altar, you don’t kick him out. I wasn’t about to let you run off and jump from the tallest building. I figure you’ve had a rough enough day; the least I can do is get you some food.”

Dean tried not to look surprised, but judging by Crowley’s smile, he knew he’d failed.

“Thank you,” Dean said softly.

“As for why I’m still here,” Crowley added, “the answer is twofold: one, I want to make sure you’re stable; two, I like company when I drink.”

Dean smiled.

“I just came from the city hall,” Crowley explained. “They turned down my application to be a city employee yet again. Bureaucracy is where I belong. Well, personally I believe I should be a monarch, but I at least know I should be somewhere in the system of government.”

“Why did they turn you down?” Dean asked.

“My record. It’s not exactly spotless. I’m only human, though.” Crowley’s eyes twinkled impishly. “I’m convinced that you’d have to be a perfect angel to be allowed in politics.”

Dean bit his cheek. He tried to avoid the name, but he found himself saying, “Cas worked in government,” before he could stop.

Crowley waited a moment before asking quietly, “That’s his name, I take it?”

Dean nodded simply.

“Well, maybe government isn’t the best place to be after all.”

Dean looked down at his plate, reconstructed his burger for something to do, and lifted the final bites to his mouth. When he finished, Crowley waved to the bartender. When the barkeep came over, Dean’s focus shifted to the empty plate in front of him and the terror of going back to his apartment. Finally, Crowley snapped him out of his reverie.

“Well,” he smiled. “It’s still pretty stormy out there, according to Chuck.”

Dean nodded and anticipated the coming goodbyes. His face was pale with fear.

“Do you want to stay at my place for a while?”

When Dean looked up into Crowley’s eyes, he searched for any threat or dishonesty or danger. Instead, he found only the quiet smirk that was there solely to hide the genuineness of Crowley’s invitation.

“I do,” Dean nodded slowly.

Crowley smiled and stood up, gesturing again for Dean to walk out to the car.


	2. The Beginning of Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Dean and Crowley's relationship as roommates begins.

Dean bit his lip during the long car ride. Crowley, sensing the internal conflict, focused on finding a radio station Dean would like. Every so often, he would discreetly switch the station and glance at Dean’s mouth to see if it turned upward or downward at the sound. Eventually, he discovered that Dean preferred rock music over everything else. Obligingly, Crowley left the classic rock station going for the last half of the ride.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Dean peered upward from the passenger’s seat at the towering apartment building before him. The front side of the building, at least, was made entirely of windows. They were tinted a soft sea blue and reflected the clouds like still water. In front of the main entrance was a doorman in a blue and brown uniform who was sheltered from the rain by a small black canopy. He wore black gloves and black sunglasses, and his smile was hidden under a bushy gray beard.

“This is your home?” Dean asked quietly. “What do you do for a living?”

Crowley only smiled. After he tipped the valet who rushed over to park his car, Crowley led Dean inside. He nodded to the doorman before peering slyly at Dean. The circles under Dean’s eyes and the sag of his shoulders were enough to convince Crowley to take the elevator to floor six instead of the stairs.

In the elevator, Dean rubbed his elbows. He was cold, uncomfortable, wet. His tuxedo was too tight and too scratchy… and, Dean realized suddenly, too damaged to be returned. He tugged at his cummerbund and tapped the toe of his shoes to relieve the ache from his arches. Crowley, of course, noticed the discomfort immediately.

“I have some clothes you can borrow,” he said quietly.

Dean looked up with relief and nodded. Before he could properly express his gratitude, the elevator stopped, Crowley gestured to the left, and they made their way to apartment number sixty-six.

“Are you allergic to hounds?” Crowley thought to ask suddenly. Dean grimaced. “Juliet’s a softie, really. Very well trained.”

Dean sighed and blinked. His eyes were so slow to open, however, that Crowley stopped talking and simply opened the door.

The rest of that night was a blur to Dean. He was certain that at one point he was changing his clothes in a fancy marine-themed bathroom, and he thought he remembered the door being open as he did. Whether he received a tour of the apartment, Dean didn’t know. His greatest concern, however, was dealt with almost immediately. In a fresh pair of red, silken pajamas, Dean walked into a room with a large comfortable bed. Crowley quickly came in to close the blinds and grab his own night clothes, but after that, he made sure Dean had a glass of water for when he woke up before he left to sleep on the couch. Juliet sneaked calmly forward, unseen by the stranger and now patted on the head by her master. Crowley smoothed his thumb along her nose and between her eyes like she liked.

As Dean slept, Crowley checked his visitor’s pockets for a wallet. When he found it, he looked for emergency contacts. Luckily, Dean kept an emergency number taped to the back of his license. Crowley sighed and began to dial.

The phone rang twice before someone picked up.

“This is Sam,” someone answered.

“Hello,” Crowley smiled. “Sam Winchester? Dean Winchester’s relative, I assume?”

“Did you find him?” Sam gasped. “Is he alright? I was just about to try the police station.”

Crowley slowly nodded and replied, “He’s fine. Your number was taped to his license, so I thought I would call. I have him here at my apartment. He seemed fairly certain that he didn’t want to return home.”

“Can you blame him?” Sam frowned. “I would never have thought Cas would be someone to do that to anyone. I guess people can always surprise you.”

Crowley wasn’t sure how to respond, so he waited until Sam sighed and spoke again.

“So, do you want me to come and get him?”

Crowley took a deep breath and looked over at the bedroom door.

“He needs the sleep,” Crowley finally answered. “I’ll have him call you in the morning; he can decide what he wants to do from there.”

After a slight hesitation, Sam asked, “You’re not a murderer or anything, are you?”

“I’m Crowley,” came the smooth answer. “If you google me, I’m sure you’ll find that I check out.”

 

When Dean awoke, he felt exhausted. His eyelids weighed more than ever before, and his throat was dry. When he blinked, his eyes burned.

“Cas,” he whispered.

For a moment, he expected Castiel’s soft hand to smooth over his forehead and make him feel safe. Instead, he felt only the silkiness of his pajamas, the sleeves pulled up to his elbows and the pants tugged awkwardly around his hips.

Suddenly, a knock on the door spurred him to sit up.

“Dean?”

The door opened. Behind it was a balding man with a spatula in his hand. After a second’s delay, Dean recognized him from the night before.

“Dean,” Crowley smiled, “I made pancakes, if you’re hungry.”

Dean blushed, mumbled his thanks, and threw his blankets to the side. When he raised his arms above his head, he squinted with a wide yawn. Crowley, who had turned to leave, found himself staring at Dean’s exposed hip bone before quickly trotting back to the griddle. Memories of the night before, when Dean had left the door open while changing into his pajamas, returned to Crowley. In spite of himself, his cheeks flushed.

“I made dollar pancakes and some larger ones,” Crowley called nonchalantly over the sound of Dean groaning himself awake.

“What are dollar pancakes?” Dean asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

He walked slowly across the living room. Behind him, warm yellow light from the morning sun streamed in through the wall of windows. By the time he reached the breakfast bar in the kitchen, however, Dean realized he wasn’t the only one enjoying the warmth.

“Juliet, Dean,” Crowley waved gently without looking up. “Dean, Juliet.”

Juliet sat up at the sound of her name, her ears perked up. She was a black pharaoh hound, and she did not wear a collar. She looked curiously at Dean for a few minutes before laying her head back down against the cool tile apartment floor.

“Dollar pancakes,” Crowley continued, “are these.”

Crowley showed Dean a plate full of small pancakes that were as wide around as the base of a mug.

Dean accepted the plate, lopped off a tablespoon of butter from the dish Crowley gave him, and poured a moat of syrup around the stack. After he took his first bite, Crowley turned off the griddle, flipped the last few pancakes onto a plate, and leaned onto the counter on his elbows.

“So,” he said casually. “Sam seems nice.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. Before he could recover, Crowley laughed.

“Relax,” he smiled. “I called him to let him know you were safe. I told him you would call him when you woke up.”

With a nod, Dean continued to wolf down his breakfast. Crowley arched an eyebrow at Juliet, who sighed the equivalent of a human shrug. When he finished eating, Dean put his plate in the sink, blushed awkwardly when he accepted the phone Crowley handed to him, and walked into the living room.

While Dean spoke softly into the receiver, Crowley cleaned up. He made himself busy by amusing Juliet for a while. He was just about to reorganize his writing desk when Dean walked over.

“Crowley?” he said.

“Yes, Dean?” Crowley looked up pleasantly with his sleeves rolled up. Dean looked down at his smooth wrists to avoid eye contact.

“How long can I stay here?” Dean asked quietly.

The phone was in his hand, still in use. On the other end, Crowley guessed that Sam was holding keys in hand and wondering whether he should pick up his brother. On instinct, Crowley wanted to give a smart response. He wanted to tease Dean, to taunt him. Instead, he showed an incredible amount of restraint with his simple, gentle reply.

“As long as you wish, Dean. My home is open to you.”

Dean’s smile was subtle. Before he pulled the receiver to his mouth again, he spoke to Crowley.

“I never thought I’d end up like this. I thought by now I’d be on my honeymoon, not crashing in a stranger’s upscale apartment.” Dean laughed inaudibly. “I never would have imagined this would happen.”

Then, just as forever had ended for Dean earlier, now never began.


	3. Up from Below vs. Down to Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After resting for a day, Dean is invited by Crowley to visit the ongoing art fair with him. This inevitably brings up thoughts of his ex-fiance.

“You coming with me, Dean?” Crowley asked nonchalantly while scratching Juliet behind the ears.

Dean looked up from his seat on the gray sofa. He’d been staring out of the wall of windows for the past half hour. From what he could tell, Crowley had the perfect view of the city’s inner courtyards, the parks, and the weekend markets. From his seat, Dean could see everything, and for the first time in a long time, he felt powerful.

Crowley waited while his pharaoh hound closed her eyes happily. All mistrust of the stranger was gone after the near constant reassurance by her beloved master over the past two days. Instead, that apprehension was replaced with a hesitant affection. Though he tried not to be, Crowley was impressed with how soon Juliet was warming up to their guest.

“Well?” Crowley prompted once more.

“Where are you going?” Dean answered.

Mentally, Crowley reminded himself that two days were not long enough to be over whoever it was who broke that man’s heart. Dean had the right to sound sullen, although that was not an emotion Crowley himself was very familiar with.

“I was thinking about going to the art show on Frederick Street South,” Crowley spoke easily. “My apartment is one painting shy of perfection, and I’m hoping I’ll find just the right piece today. I’d appreciate some assistance, if you’re up to it.”

Crowley stood casually and reached over for his coat and keys.

“Sure,” Dean decided. “Why not?”

“That’s the spirit,” Crowley smiled.

He led Dean back to the bedroom closet and helped him pick out some clothes. A blue suit was the most casual article of clothing Dean could find, so he found himself well dressed beside Crowley, who wore his usual black attire. For all anyone could guess, they might have been attending a televised award show in those outfits.

The elevator man was on duty during the afternoons, so Dean was able to watch his eyebrow raise and his smile widen when he looked from Crowley to Dean. He didn’t say anything, however, while they went down to the base floor, nor when Crowley tipped the man before exiting. The entire interaction seemed strange to Dean, who’d only really known the one bedroom apartment he owned in the warehouse district of town. Odder still was the knowing smile of the valet outside as he brought up Crowley’s second vehicle. This silver mustang was sleek and new. When he slipped into the passenger seat, Dean noticed that the interior smelled like cigars and sweet red wine. He took a deep breath just as Crowley slid into the driver’s seat, catching the scents of Juliet and a somehow spicy smelling cologne.

“I love the art fairs in the city,” Crowley breathed contentedly. “Have you ever been?”

“No,” Dean answered. Before he could stop himself, he kept speaking with a voice becoming drier and drier as he did. “Cas was an artist, so we had plenty to look at around the place.”

“A government employee and artist?” Crowley nodded. “He sounds like an interesting person.”

Dean nodded, opened his mouth, and let a small affirmative squeak come out.

Crowley looked sideways at him. Dean had purple bags under his eyes, slightly chapped lips, reddish brown stubble, and what looked like permanent worry lines on his forehead.

“You want to tell me about him?” Crowley offered.

The words were so heavy and weighted with comfort and hesitancy, but they also somehow managed to sound gentle and casual. Almost immediately, Dean reacted.

“I don’t know,” he said. Instead of becoming silent afterward, however, he continued into a long explanation of his ex-fiancé. Crowley couldn’t help but smile at first, noting how easy it was for Dean to trust him, but also how easy it was for him to want Dean to trust him. “Castiel came to me in a dark point of my life. It was like I was in my own personal hell, and he raised me out of it. I thought he must have been an angel sent to rescue me, and I loved him for that.”

The more Dean talked, the easier the words came. Instead of rough, disjointed sentences about a vague person, he gave strong, honest, detailed words about a person he loved. Clearer with each word was that the love was still there. The love seemed etched into Dean’s soul, and as Crowley listened, he heard it. He could see it in his eyes as he spoke. With it, unfortunately, came the most torrential waves of confusion and brutal pain Crowley had ever seen one person endure.

“We were so excited to be married,” Dean began. Then he corrected himself. “I thought we were so excited to be married.”

“You didn’t see it coming at all, then,” Crowley said. “When I spoke to your brother the other night, he said even he couldn’t understand what happened.”

“I guess you can never really know a person well enough,” he said quietly.

Dean waited in silence for a moment while Crowley pulled into the parking lot. Eventually, the car was parked, the key was taken from the ignition, and Crowley was turned to face Dean straight on.

“He’s an idiot,” Crowley shrugged bluntly.

Dean’s brow furrowed, wanting to defend Cas but wondering why he should.

“Dean,” Crowley shook his head. “The guy’s a moron for running away. He had someone incredible completely in love with him and he ran away. Does that sound like someone intelligent to you? Listen, you deserve a lot better than someone who can’t speak his mind. He was a coward, and if there’s one thing I can’t tolerate, it’s cowardice. If he was scared or uncomfortable, he should have had the guts to say something.”

Crowley sighed and leaned back.

“Anyway,” he said, “if I was in a relationship with someone like you, I’d fight for an eternity before giving that up.”

A long moment passed. Then, just like that, Crowley was getting out of the car, adjusting his suit jacket, and walking around to Dean’s door. Dean just stared at the windshield for a minute before his door was opened and a warm, firm hand was stretched out to help him stand. In a second, Dean was on his feet. Beside him, Crowley looked around, took a deep breath of fresh air, and tried his hardest not to seem like he cared too much about anything.

“I’m thinking an underwater painting,” he said. “Hopefully we’ll find something like that here.”

Dean looked at their hands, still wrapped together. After feeling like a lifeless cloud being dragged every direction by the wind for the past two days, he finally felt grounded. Crowley was bringing him down from an uncontrolled weightlessness.

“Underwater,” Dean repeated softly. “Right. Let’s see what we can find.”


	4. Out With the Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally learns what Crowley does for a living after they manage to align the apartment's new deep-sea painting in the bathroom. Just when things seem to be moving forward for the two, however, they both receive a big surprise.

“A little on the left,” Crowley said.

He craned his neck several feet from the left wall of the bathroom. Dean stood on an old wooden ladder beside the bathroom vanity holding an enormous framed painting of the bioluminescent tentacles of a jellyfish close in the foreground. Fading from blue to purple to black in the background was the current of deep water behind which could be seen a very faint outline of a particularly large whale.

“I meant tilt it up on the left,” Crowley corrected himself, “not move the whole thing to the left.”

Dean shook his head, made an adjustment, and said, “What about here?”

“Hmm…”

“By all means,” Dean joked, “take your time. This is really light, actually.”

Crowley walked forward and looked up to see the painting from another angle. Instead, what he saw was that Dean’s untucked button-up shirt was lifted away from his body, exposing just the very top of the ‘v’ of his hip bones and the light lines of his abs. Crowley could also see how well the blue slacks rested against his ass as he leaned forward against the wall.

“I was lying,” Dean clarified obliviously. “This is very heavy.”

Crowley backed up again and cleared his throat.

“Well,” he responded hoarsely, “you look good. I mean, it looks good. The way you’re holding it looks good. No, I mean the way it is now is perfect. Are you hungry? I’m going to go call for Chinese take-out.”

Dean slowly released his grip on the painting, letting it rest on the hooks the way he’d been holding it. Suppressing a grin, he jumped down from the vanity and looked up at the painting. Shaking his head, he left the room to go find Crowley. Behind him, the already very crooked painting tilted further toward the left.

“Two orders of the Lo Mein,” Crowley nodded. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with the phone in his hand. His back was to the bathroom door and Dean. “One fried rice and one steamed, please.”

Dean watched as Crowley finished ordering. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing thickly muscled forearms and a small reddish tattoo. As he watched, Crowley clenched and relaxed his back muscles subconsciously.

“Yes, please,” Crowley continued on the phone.

Suddenly, Dean heard the buzz of his cell phone from the living room’s end table just outside. Quietly, he walked over and looked at who was calling.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Dean said quickly, peeking back into the master bedroom once more just in time to see Crowley turn off his phone, stand up, and stretch with his arms high over his head.

“Hey, Dean,” he said. He sounded apprehensive. “How’re you doing?”

“What do you want?” Dean pressed.

“You still at Crowley’s?” Sam asked from the other end.

“Mhm,” he answered vaguely. Now Crowley was tilting his head to stretch his neck.

“You know he’s a millionaire, right?” Sam continued. “Have you googled him yet?”

“No, but who cares?” Dean finally turned away and walked to the wall of windows.

“Dean, the man’s incredible. Get this: he runs a business that doesn’t accept modern currency. You have to trade what you can, what you feel is equal to what you’re receiving. The entire barter system has made him a millionaire, and thousands of people swear by him. A lot of people seem to think he’s amazing.”

“So why do you sound so worried?” Dean asked. He squinted down at the street to find out what kind of car had just driven by. When Sam didn’t answer right away, he added, “Sammy?”

“Out of the thousands who’d support him with their very souls, there are dozens who claim he’s cheated them, or even tricked them in some cases.”

Dean’s brow furrowed.

“Tricked them how?”

“You know, telling them that what they offered to trade wasn’t worth much, or convincing them that what he had to offer was worth much more when it was actually useless. Bad business deals, apparently. One woman claims that she traded something she loved in return for the perfect oven to help her become a top chef. Apparently she spent ten years cooking at the most prestigious restaurant in New York before the oven completely fell apart and her reputation was ruined. When she asked him to compensate or exchange with her again, he refused her business and drove her to homelessness.”

Dean bit his lip. After a tense minute, Sam sighed.

“I know it’s a lot, Dean, but maybe you should talk to him and actually get to know him if you plan on living there much longer.”

Dean took a deep breath.

“I have to go now.”

“I know,” Sam said with a little too much understanding. “Just, think about it, okay? It would be nice to know the person you’re living with.”

“See ya, Sammy,” Dean answered pointedly.

He shut the phone quickly and stared without focusing on anything.

“How much of that,” Crowley said from close by, “is because of me?”

Dean turned quickly and saw Crowley leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. His arms were crossed in front of him casually.

“You’re awfully tense,” Crowley noted. “Is it because of me?”

“No, I just,” Dean began. Then, he helplessly waved his phone and said, “My brother.”

“I see,” Crowley smiled. “He say anything interesting, or was he just offering to pick you up again?”

“Little of both,” Dean answered cautiously. Awkwardly, he held his hands behind his back. “So, Crowley, what is it you do for a living?”

Crowley’s smile grew bigger.

“He googled me, I take it?” he laughed.

“Trading,” Dean answered himself. “Anything specific or just cookware?”

“All sorts of necessities and luxuries. Whatever people want, I can give to them. I admit to the oven fiasco, by the way. As I said that first day when I found you in my car, my record isn’t exactly spotless.”

“They won’t let you in government because you refused service after a woman’s oven broke?” Dean asked.

“You’d think there’d be more to the story, wouldn’t you?” Crowley shrugged. “Interestingly, that’s the end of it. I denied her appeal and she decided to badmouth my company, committing slander in the process. When the court saw her case, they sided with her, saying that I should have informed her beforehand that that particular brand was prone to break if not properly attended to. The government here considers that a criminal record, and so I’m off their approved list.”

Dean tilted his head.

“I prefer to think of the thousands of customers who are satisfied with our deals, however,” Crowley nodded pointedly. “I’m able to give people what they’re looking for at a price they can afford. Not everyone is a millionaire, after all, but several people own flowerboxes full of peonies or are able to draw a stick-figure cartoon in exchange for fresh vegetables.”

“Oh,” Dean said simply. He scratched his thumb. “So you aren’t a rip-off company that makes money doing sleazy deals?”

Crowley stifled a laugh. “Not that I know of. I’ve been told I have hellfire in my halo, however. I may be helping people get what they need, but I’m not one to be taken advantage of. I do random checks with my customers to ensure that all is well. If anything has been bought for resale without my permission, I can give quite the ruthless pursuit.”

Dean smiled. “So, then, hellfire, shouldn’t we fix that painting before the take-out arrives?”

Together, the two of them stood once again in the bathroom to adjust the painting. When it was perfectly even, Dean stepped backward on the vanity to see from a better angle. Unfortunately, he’d assumed there was more of a counter than there actually was.

Just as Dean’s arms flailed and he began to tip backwards, Crowley rushed forward with his arms outstretched.

“Oh no,” Dean muttered just before he fell.

“I’ve got you!” Crowley answered as he rushed forward.

Just as he walked in front of the vanity, however, Crowley’s feet lost their grip and he fell flat on his back. Dean then plopped perfectly on top of him, his head landing on Crowley’s shoulder.

“Oof!” Crowley groaned, reaching down with one hand. “That was a good shot.”

Dean laughed and tried to reorient himself.

“You make a comfortable landing pad,” he said shakily, slowly moving off of Crowley, who was folding himself into a ball. “Where did I get you?”

“Nowhere pleasant,” Crowley answered squeakily, cupping his hands over his groin.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

“That’ll be Chinese,” Crowley said.

“I’ll get it,” Dean answered, trying not to laugh too loudly.

Shaking his head, Dean walked over to the door. Just as he opened it, Crowley limped from the master bedroom doorway in time to see a bouquet of flowers. Behind the flowers, Crowley could just see the top of someone’s brown haired head.

“Castiel,” Dean stated with wide eyes.

A blue-eyed man with a kind face and gentle features looked from Dean to Crowley, noticing their flyaway hairs and wrinkled expensive clothes. When he refocused on Dean, he lowered the flowers.

“Hello, Dean,” said a deep, raspy voice.


	5. The Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas finally confront each other, and Dean finally learns the reason that Cas left him at the altar.

“Cas,” Dean said. His mouth was open, and his eyes wide.

Suddenly, there was a cough from someone else in the hallway. A voice piped up and spoke quickly.

“Someone ordered Chinese?”

Crowley cleared his throat from the bedroom doorway, adjusted his suit jacket, and walked over. Edging around the immobilized Dean, he smiled awkwardly at the delivery man.

“That’d be mine,” he said. When he walked by Castiel, he added, “Excuse me. Pardon me.”

While Crowley paid for the take-out and accepted the four big bags of food, Dean stared at questioning blue eyes. Those were the eyes he had dreams about. Those were the eyes that he’d woken up to for months. Those were the eyes that had shut him out at the front of the church.

“Sorry, excuse me,” Crowley said when he brought the food back in. “Excuse me, Dean.”

Crowley set the bags on the kitchen counter, spreading the scent of hot pork and rice through the room. Juliet sniffed the air, finally awoken from her nap. Then, she noticed the stranger at the door and began to growl deep in her throat. With a nonchalance that Dean had gotten used to, Crowley moved forward with his hands in his front pockets. Leaning over Dean’s shoulder, he whispered.

“I can let Juliet have him, if you want.”

Dean blinked away an amused anguish before shaking his head.

“Cas, what are you doing here?” he said thickly.

Castiel, who now held the flowers loosely in one hand, looked up and down Crowley’s wrinkled clothes.

“Dean,” he breathed while still watching Crowley with bewilderment. He then turned uneasily and smiled with sad eyes. “I just want to talk to you, Dean. I want to explain.”

Suddenly, what looked to Castiel like an oddly strong and purposeful twitch ran through Crowley’s arm only to be stopped by a much more observant Dean. Dean held a hand out, blocking the motion directed at Cas’s face.

“Don’t!” Dean shouted quickly. Seeing the frightened look in Dean’s eye finally convinced Castiel that Crowley had intended to punch him full in the face. “I want to talk to him, Crowley.”

Words and insults ran full force from the back of Crowley’s mind to the brick wall that was his closed mouth. The only sound that escaped was a growl similar to Juliet’s. His eyes, too, were narrowed in a rough glare.

While Cas held the flowers loosely in hand, he watched the pair in front of him share a long look. He knew Dean better than most, perhaps even better than Sam, and even he could not decipher what was hidden behind those green eyes. The other man’s expression was hauntingly clear, however. Cas straightened his back, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat.

“I just want to talk to him,” Cas addressed Crowley. “That’s all.”

Crowley then clenched his jaw, looked at Juliet, and nodded toward the bedroom. Obediently, the dog walked out of the room.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Crowley whispered loudly to Dean. “Juliet and I will be in the next room. Feel free to use the living room.”

Crowley started to walk away, but he stopped just at the edge of the kitchen counter. He bent down slowly, reached into the cupboard, and grabbed a long glass vase.

“Put the flowers in water,” he ordered both of them before he continued out of the room.

Silently, Dean stepped aside and allowed Cas to enter the apartment.

“He’s got quite a place,” Cas observed quietly. He placed the flowers in the vase and then walked over to the sink. When he turned on the tap, he said, “You must really love it here.”

“You must, too,” Dean replied. “This is the longest you’ve stayed in one place since the ceremony.”

Cas winced. When the vase was half full, he took a deep breath and turned to face Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said softly. The words carried the weight of a thousand regrets. “I’m sorry, Dean. You have to know how much it hurt me after I left. I went back to our apartment late that night, and when I saw you weren’t there, I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, you could have saved yourself the trouble,” Dean responded curtly, “by not running off in the first place. If you had cold feet, you could have said something. You could have said something to me before we were both standing in front of our friends and family.”

Dean clenched his hands, pressed them to his forehead, and stepped forward. Then, he remembered what Crowley had told him earlier, and he borrowed those words.

“You were a coward, Castiel! You need to speak to people instead of just running away! Do you know how humiliating that was for me? Do you know what other people must have thought? Do you care what I thought?” Dean jabbed himself in the chest to emphasize his point. “Did you stop loving me? Did I do something wrong?”

Cas blinked hard and looked away.

“Of course not, Dean,” he answered quietly.

“And then there was the thunderstorm!” Dean yelled with a sarcastic laugh. “You took our cab, did you know that? You took the ride that was meant to bring us to our honeymoon. Did you think I would just go back and ask one of our wedding guests for a lift? How could you do that to me, Castiel?”

Cas bit his lip and tried to wipe the anguish from his face. He tapped his toe once, as if it were on an invisible air pump that would push more confidence into him. When he tapped his foot again, he looked up at Dean’s dark eyes.

“What did you do?” he finally asked, still quiet.

“I got into the first unlocked car I could find by the courthouse.” Dean wiped his forehead, suddenly feeling the weight of his exhaustion. “Then Crowley showed up and I’ve been staying with him since.”

Cas nodded. “You two seem very… friendly.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like that,” he snapped. “Crowley’s just giving me a place to stay. It’s not like I planned this situation. What I did plan was a two week honeymoon with the man I love, but that fell to pieces when he stopped loving me.”

“I will never stop loving you,” Cas spoke up. These words were loud and angry and wounded, and Dean took a step back out of sheer surprise. “I love you, Dean, and I always have.”

“Then why did you leave me?” Dean shouted. Tears welled up in his eyes and overflowed when he shook his head forcefully. “Why would you abandon me if you love me?”

“Because I can’t give you what you need!” Cas shouted back. For the first time since Dean met him, Cas shouted loud enough for his voice to echo through the apartment. “I left you because I love you, Dean.”

Dean let out a deep breath and leaned back. From the bedroom, they heard the sound of Juliet scratching at the door, wanting to investigate the loud noises.

“Calm down, girl,” Crowley was saying. “Sh. Not until Dean says it’s okay.”

When Dean refocused on Cas, he noticed the sea blue eyes crying as well. Cas’s shoulders drooped and he tried to steady his breath.

“Cas,” Dean started.

Before he could finish, Cas interrupted.

“I’m asexual, Dean.”

Dean leaned back with furrowed brows.

“I can’t,” Cas attempted to speak. “I don’t want…”

Dean stood up straight, walked forward, and reached out to Cas’s shoulders. For the first time in a week, Castiel felt the grounding presence of the man he loved, and it gave him the courage to speak.

“I can’t give you what you need,” he managed. “As much as I love you, I can’t put you through a lifetime of me. At first, when you proposed, I thought I could stick it out and work through it. I thought that if it made you happy, I could try. Then I got to the altar and I realized how unfair it was for you.”

Dean’s hands fell to his sides. He looked down at Cas’s tears with a subtly horrified expression.

“I left,” Cas nodded to himself, “because you need something I can’t give you. It has nothing to do with how much I love you, Dean. That will never change.”

Dean opened his mouth, let it sit for a minute, and then spoke quietly.

“You left,” he repeated, “because you don’t want to have sex with me?”

Cas didn’t say anything. He just watched Dean’s eyes as he processed what he’d heard.

“You were going to stay,” Dean said, his voice growing more and more repulsed, “and just try to suffer through? What the hell were you thinking?”

Cas jumped when Dean anxiously raised a hand to his own hair.

“My god, Cas! How could you not tell me this before? Why would you say yes to my proposal if it made you feel that way? What did you think, that I wanted you to be some kind of prisoner? Cas, you could have just told me beforehand!”

“I thought I could handle it,” Cas answered with wide eyes. “I thought I could push through.”

“Why would you have to?” Dean yelled.

“Because I love you!”

Dean and Cas breathed heavily for a minute, standing a foot apart, tears drying on their faces.

“Listen,” Dean said. “I love you, and I would have lived a lifetime with you and been the happiest man in the world. But for you to even consider resigning yourself to that life without even telling me about this… do you know how disgusted I would be with myself if I found this out afterward?”

Cas looked down.

“I know, Dean,” he answered. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

Dean reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I love you,” Cas shrugged with a sad smile. “I just wanted to be with you always and keep you happy.”

Slowly, Cas walked around Dean to reach for the handle of the front door. Just before he turned the knob, he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I never intended to hurt you.”

Dean’s jaw clenched.

“I’ll have my stuff out of our apartment by Sunday.”

“Don’t,” Dean answered. They stood back to back, but Cas knew Dean was rolling his eyes. “Don’t move out. You keep the apartment. It’s easier for me to find a place. I can live with my brother for a while.”

“Or stay here,” Cas whispered. The words sounded like a question to Dean. “He seems to like you very much.”

Dean nodded, knowing that even though Cas wasn’t looking, he would understand.

“Do you like him?” Cas asked quietly.

Dean remained silent and still.

“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas smiled. “I wish you all the best in the world.”


	6. The Wait Until Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Cas leaves, Dean and Crowley have an important decision to make.

The lock clicked in place a second after the door closed. Dean stared at it blankly.

“So,” Crowley said suddenly from behind him. “What’s the verdict?”

Dean turned around to face him, his eyes still bloodshot from crying and his mouth still twisted as if physically holding his words back.

“Dean,” Crowley sighed.

He walked forward, past the counter and Cas’s flowers, and right up to Dean. At a foot away, he hesitated. Seeing the sudden confused excitement in Dean’s eyes, however, Crowley pushed forward until his lips were pressed onto Dean’s, his hands wrapped around Dean’s hips. One hand moved hard up Dean’s ribs and onto his cheek, into his hair, holding Dean’s head slightly back.

“Dean,” Crowley breathed, his lips moving sloppily from Dean’s lips, sliding down his jaw and landing just under his ear. “Dean.”

With wide eyes, Dean moved his hands onto Crowley’s back, pulling him closer. Eventually, he closed his eyes, smiled, and sighed.

“Crowley,” he spoke gruffly.

Finally, after pecking kisses down Dean’s neck, Crowley stood back with his hands still wrapped around Dean. Breathing heavily, Crowley smiled.

“Tell me what happened,” he said.

Dean’s mouth opened, but Crowley covered it with his finger.

“Wait,” Crowley ordered. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Slowly, he disentangled his arms from Dean, stepped backward, and leaned back against the kitchen counter, a good six feet away. He nodded. “Okay. Now tell me.”

Dean’s smile lifted at the corners before falling back down.

“I understand why he left,” Dean said simply. He looked down and smiled genuinely. “I think I’m okay with it.”

Dean took a deep breath, smiled to himself once more, and looked up at Crowley.

“So,” Crowley started, “you’re not getting back together?”

Dean shook his head.

“We want different things,” he said simply. “There’s something I need that he can’t give me, and there are things he needs that I can’t give him. As much as I love him, we just don’t belong together.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Crowley looked Dean up and down.

“I think I am,” Dean nodded honestly. With a smile, he said, “I think now that I understand why he left, I really am okay with it.”

Crowley nodded, cleared his throat, and spoke.

“So then, tell me what you need.”

Dean’s eyes flashed down Crowley’s chest and waist and hips and thighs. When he looked back up at Crowley’s eyes, he saw that Crowley was shaking his head.

“I’m not a rebound,” Crowley said firmly, raising his hands up.

“I would never think of you as one,” Dean answered thickly. His eyes scanned Crowley’s broad shoulders, his tight black button-up shirt, his large hands.

Still, however, Crowley shook his head.

With a furrowed brow, Dean asked, “Don’t you feel the same? The first night I was here, you saw me changing though the open door. Then you lost your train of thought when I was fixing the painting in the bathroom. You can’t stand here and tell me you don’t feel something for me, too.”

Crowley laughed breathily, reaching one hand to his neck and rubbing the back of it.

“I didn’t know you’d noticed that,” he said awkwardly. Then, he straightened up and nodded. “I do feel something. In fact, I’d like to feel more somethings.”

Dean walked forward with a grin, but Crowley held out his hands in front of him again.

“But now’s not the time,” Crowley said firmly. “I don’t want to be a rebound. I don’t want to be someone that’s just to help you move on from him. If we’re going to move forward, I need to know that you’re completely past him.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Dean asked, tilting his head.

“Well, you still have your share of the take out to eat, unless Juliet finished it off for you,” Crowley smiled. “Then we can watch a movie. If you still want to in the morning, we can.”

Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay.”

 

Dean ate messily, with small bits of rice landing in his lap and sticking to his chin. Crowley watched from the corner of his eye as Dean licked his fork clean of all of the sauce from the pork. Forced to look away, Crowley rolled his eyes.

When they finished eating, Crowley brought the dishes to the sink and began to wash them.

“I can dry those, if you want,” Dean answered, already flipping a towel across his arm.

“Thank you,” Crowley smiled politely.

Crowley then scrubbed the two plates clean, handed them over to Dean, watched Dean’s forearms flex as he pushed the towel up and back again to dry the dishes off, and stared back at the suds in the sink.

As he dried the dishes, Dean watched Crowley’s sleeves slip ever so slightly down his arm. When Crowley brought one wet hand up to his arm, Dean watched the sleeve roll back up and then saw the water roll down Crowley’s arm. He looked quickly back at the plate in his hand.

After the dishes were cleaned and put away, Crowley brought Juliet into the living room to lay on the rug in front of the television.

“What movie would you like to watch?” Crowley asked, his thoughts far from watching a film.

“Something good?” Dean suggested vaguely, staring at Crowley as he was bending over to look through his discs. Dean cleared his throat when he saw Crowley’s slacks tighten across the back of his thighs and his ass while he knelt down to see the movies. Squeakily, Dean added, “Maybe something with a lot of gunfire.”

Crowley nodded and pulled out an action film. As he loaded it into the disc player, he saw Dean’s reflection in the black screen. Crowley’s breath hitched and he swallowed hard while he watched Dean press the heel of his hand to his thighs as he stretched. Then his mouth fell open when he saw Dean lift one leg over the other, stretching the fabric of his pants tight across his ass.

“This should work,” Crowley said hoarsely.

He cleared his throat again and brought the remote to his seat on the couch. All of the sudden, he felt intimately close to Dean, despite being three feet away from the other end of the couch.

“I hope so,” Dean answered, just as thickly.

Together, they each tried to focus on the film, not each other’s breathing, not each other’s stretching, and definitely not each other’s sighing. The end of the film took an eternity and pushed their self-control to its limits.

“Well,” Crowley coughed, “you should go to bed. I’ll sleep here again tonight.”

Dean shook his head.

“Please don’t,” Dean said. “I promise nothing will happen in the bedroom, but I can feel how hard this cushion is. It can’t be good on your back.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“Honestly,” Dean said. “I can sleep on the floor or something.”

Now Crowley shook his head and said, “I’ll just grab a different blanket and sleep over the sheets. We can share the bed for tonight.”

 

Dean couldn’t sleep.

Crowley couldn’t either.

At one point, Dean reached out tentatively to the other side of the bed only to hear the happy purr of Juliet, who had somehow sneaked between them. Later, Dean heard the purr again and assumed that Crowley must have reached out to pet her as well.

Eventually, around three in the morning, Dean managed to nod off. Soon afterward, Crowley heard his name being whispered sleepily. When he turned around to look over Juliet, he saw Dean’s eyes closed tight, a bright smile on his lips. Crowley excused himself to the bathroom immediately. When he came back twenty minutes later, his face was flushed all the way down his neck and his eyes were drooping happily and sleepily.


	7. Call It Quits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Crowley finally get to fulfill their desires... but will their newfound romance last?

Dean woke up to something wet on his shoulder. He kept his eyes closed and smiled happily.

“Mmn,” he moaned. “Crowley.”

Heavy panting pushed hotly against his ear, and Dean lifted his legs and moved flat on his back. With eyes still closed, he laughed when a tongue licked a stripe from the bottom of his ear down his neck. Then, he heard the bedroom door open.

“I made waffles!” Crowley sang from the doorway.

Suddenly, Dean was rolling off of the bed, wiping down his face with the back of his hand, and staring with horror at Juliet’s slobbery face.

“Are you okay?” Crowley asked, walking forward to pet Juliet under her chin.

“Oh,” Dean groaned. “I need a shower.”

Crowley laughed.

“The waffles are ready now, so you should eat them while their hot. Then you can shower, okay?”

Dean shook his head to free himself from the mental instant replay that seemed to loop inside of his mind. Crowley left the room with a shake of his head. When he finally managed to stand up again, he pointed a warning finger at Juliet.

“Bad dog,” he whispered. Juliet whined. With a satisfied nod, Dean followed Crowley back to the kitchen.

They ate breakfast quietly, at times avoiding eye contact and at times staring each other down to see who would look away first. When the waffles were gone, Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“That was so,” he started.

Before he could finish speaking, Crowley’s lips covered his. Crowley’s hands wandered from Dean’s hair to his chest to his waist while Dean ran his hands from Crowley’s belly up to his neck. They both tasted like syrup and butter.

When Crowley moved to kiss down Dean’s jawline, Dean finished his sentence with a weak, “good.”

Crowley’s stubble tickled Dean’s cheek as he moved down the side of his face with kisses. He sucked just under Dean’s ear, making Dean let out an uneven breath. Discreetly, Crowley looked down at the bulge in Dean’s pajama pants.

“You should go take your shower now,” he smiled cruelly.

Dean grumbled.

“Go on,” Crowley smiled. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

 

The grumbling continued the entire time that Dean walked to the shower, started the shower, finished the shower, and stepped out of the bathroom. The unsatisfied muttering halted, however, when Dean stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and saw the bedroom door closed and the curtains drawn. The room was surprisingly dark with only one bedside lamp turned on to illuminate the space.

“Dean,” Crowley whispered.

He’d been perched on the chair beside the bedroom door, but when Dean saw him, he was walking forward confidently. Crowley strutted until he was breathing directly into Dean’s ear.

“Are you sure about this?” Crowley whispered.

He ran his hands along the top curve of Dean’s ass over the towel. Dean nodded, so Crowley kissed his neck. Dean shivered, not just from the cold air hitting his wet skin.

“Yes,” Dean whispered out loud. He reached up and grabbed the hem of Crowley’s shirt. “Yes.”

Crowley grinned. Before Dean realized he’d done it, Crowley had unknotted the towel from around his waist. With a soft thud, Dean heard his nakedness announce itself. Shamelessly, Crowley looked down at Dean’s body.

“Wow,” Crowley mouthed soundlessly.

Slowly, Crowley’s hands pressed against Dean’s skin on his abs, his pecs, and his hips. Dean’s dick twitched with intrigue when Crowley stepped even closer, and Dean immediately forced Crowley’s shirt over his head. Crowley replaced his hands in their position as soon as he could, mouthing wet kisses along Dean’s neck while he tried to undo his pants.

“I should ask,” Crowley mumbled on Dean’s Adam’s apple. “Do you top or bottom?”

Dean breathed deeply and pushed Crowley’s pants down along with his boxers.

“Bottom,” Dean whispered. “Is that okay?”

Crowley grinned and grazed his teeth over Dean’s jaw.

“I’m a switch,” Crowley shrugged, kicking his pants farther away. “Come on, Dean. Get on the bed.”

Dean nodded obediently and skipped quickly in front of Crowley.

“Lay down and get comfortable,” Crowley ordered politely, rushing behind Dean and grabbing his ass.

“Oh!” Dean squeaked.

Quickly, Dean jumped onto the mattress and laid on his back. Crowley landed promptly next to him, kissing his neck and his jaw and his chest, sucking on his lips and his tongue and his nipples, biting along his ears and his neck and his lips, and tonguing over his nipples and his tongue and his jaw. Dean was breathing heavily by the time Crowley started peppering kisses down his chest and down his hips.

“Hold your legs up for me, dear,” Crowley said simply, pushing lightly on them. Promptly, Dean’s legs were in his grip, opening up the perfect view of his ass and dick for Crowley. “Thank you, Dean. That was so good.”

Dean blushed and lifted his bottom from the mattress slightly to make a point. Chuckling to himself, Crowley lowered his tongue lazily onto Dean’s perineum. For a brief second, he moved up to suck lightly on Dean’s balls before he went down to his ass and bit his cheek.

“Oh!” Dean gasped happily. After a second of shock, Dean groaned, “Please do that again!”

As close to his hole as possible, Crowley bit down again. He watched as Dean’s cock started leaking and grinned.

“That does it for you?” Crowley asked incredulously.

“Oh god, yes,” Dean answered breathily.

Crowley rolled his eyes and licked along the wrinkled, pink hole that Dean was presenting to him so beautifully. Experimentally, he let his teeth just lightly press against Dean there, and Dean shuddered wildly at the sensation.

“Yes!” Dean moaned. “Crowley!”

With his hands, Crowley scratched down Dean’s thighs and grabbed his ass. Then, he finally let his tongue slide into Dean, slowly.

“Oh, yes,” Dean groaned, “more! Please, Crowley!”

Crowley breathed a laugh onto Dean before stretching his tongue as far into Dean as he could, twisting it around and poking at Dean’s walls to try to get him to moan louder. Finally, Crowley reached one hand up and rubbed Dean’s balls before wrapping around his cock. He rubbed lightly and carefully for a minute while his tongue worked Dean open a little more.

“Crowley,” Dean whined loudly. “Please! Please!”

To Dean’s great pleasure, Crowley complied. He lifted his head, licked a stripe up the underside of Dean’s dick, and moved overhead.

“This is what you want?” Crowley asked again for good measure.

“Yes!” Dean nearly shouted. “Please, yes!”

Crowley smiled, reached over to the nightstand, and grabbed the lube he’d left out.

“Are you ready, Dean?” Crowley asked hoarsely, leaning down to kiss him.

“Yes,” Dean whined. His knuckles were white as he held his legs up helpfully. “Please!”

Crowley grinned, nodded, and warmed the lube in his hand. Finally, he rubbed the lube on his own aching cock and onto Dean’s. While Dean moaned and gasped with Crowley’s strokes, Crowley used his second hand and warmed lube to work Dean loose enough to fit him.

“I’m gonna come!” Dean shouted. “God, Crowley, please!”

“Not yet, dear,” Crowley smirked. “Not yet.”

Slowly, Crowley slid into Dean, feeling Dean’s muscles clench around him, helping him in, needing him inside. Crowley shivered and gasped.

“Yes,” he groaned happily. Dean wiggled his hips impatiently and nearly made Crowley come already.

“Please, Crowley, let me come!” Dean begged, his face gone red with concentration.

“Oh, yes!” Crowley shouted.

He rammed into Dean.

With his hands supporting his legs from under his knees, Dean rocked back with every thrust, and he felt something building and building with each knock of his head against the pillows.

“Crowley!” Dean shouted. It was his final warning, and it spurred Crowley to start pumping his cock in time with his thrusts.

“Come, Dean!” Crowley shouted back deeply, lowly, loudly. “Come for me!”

Immediately, Dean felt himself release, hot and white, over Crowley’s hand.

“Yes!” Dean shouted. “Yes!”

Dean focused on breathing as his vision darkened and his back trembled. Crowley groaned when he felt the muscles tensing and relaxing around him until he, too, couldn’t take it. He came hard, pouring into Dean while Dean covered both of their chests.

“Dean!” Crowley shouted when he came.

Breathing heavily, he felt himself go limp and he leaned down on top of Dean. He whispered, “Dean.”

Dean simply breathed in and out.

“You can let go of your legs now, Dean,” Crowley whispered, kissing whatever skin he could reach. Slowly, he let himself slide out of Dean. Then, totally relaxed, he fell onto his back and kissed Dean’s shoulder. “Dean. That was…”

“I think we should call it quits now,” Dean said with a straight face.

It took Crowley a minute before he playfully smacked Dean’s chest and wrapped his arms around him.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Crowley said easily.

“I know, I know,” Dean teased, kissing Crowley’s wrist.  “Can we do that again?”


	8. The Beginning of Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds himself in a very familiar situation.

Dean let out a shaking breath and leaned down with his hands on his knees. With deep breaths, he closed his eyes tightly.

_I believe these two men have prepared their own vows. Dean?_

Dean raised his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes.

“I vow to be true,” Dean whispered into his hands. “I vow to be a hypocrite only when I know it will get on your nerves. If ever the day comes that we need reassurance, or reminders, I vow to be brave. You make me brave, and I won’t take the courage you lend me for granted. You can rely on me.”

_Crowley?_

Dean nodded back and forth and stretched his shoulders by moving them in circles. Finally, there came a knock on the door.

“Dean?” someone said quietly. With a sigh, Dean reached over and opened the door. “How’re you doing, man?”

Dean looked Sam up and down. As his best man, Sam had gone above and beyond. He’d spoken with the wedding guests to explain the previous engagement, he’d gone out of his way to redecorate the church and even the room in city hall differently than before, and he’d paid for a brand new tuxedo. He did what he could to make sure Dean knew that this ceremony wouldn’t be the same. Dean was safe. Unknown by Dean, however, was the fact that Sam had strategically positioned some of their old tougher friends and family by the exits just in case.

Dean nodded, clapped Sam on the shoulder, and let out a long breath.

“Cas is here,” Sam said softly. “He said he could leave if you want him to.”

Dean smiled with sad eyes.

“Never,” he answered easily. “He’s my best friend; I need him at my wedding.”

Sam cracked a smile.

“You almost ready?”

Dean nodded again, took a deep breath, and prepared to walk down the aisle. Then he thought of Crowley again.

“Did you see him?” he asked quietly.

“I did,” Sam laughed.

“How’s he look?”

Sam shook his head.

“Indescribable,” he said. “Less sweaty than you are, at least.”

Dean pushed Sam’s shoulder away and grinned.

“Is it time?” he asked.

Sam looked down at his watch, nodded, and smiled at his older brother.

“Let’s go, then,” Dean sighed shakily.

“Congratulations, Dean,” Sam whispered. “I’m really happy for you, man.”

With a smile, Dean saw Sam’s eyes tearing up. Subtly, he reached over and hugged his neck, embracing his younger brother for a long minute before looking out toward the main doors to the nave. With a deep breath to steady him and his vows tucked in his pocket, he walked toward the start of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this series! We finally made it to where it ends, short and sweet. Thank you all so much for your support with this project! I'm wishing you all the best, always.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave notes if you have any!


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